A Hairless Wombat
by Agent H.E.R.O
Summary: Chase needs someone to pick him up from the hospital. Who else but Wilson comes to his aid? No slash. Sensitive topic of cancer and a tiny bit of suicide in chapter 8. Read and review!
1. Chapter 1

Just a little story I thought of while studying for exams. I'll probably keep adding to the story, but only if I get some reviews. I own nothing. Enjoy!

"Hey, Wilson? Could you pick me up?"

Chase never expected to need to ask Wilson to pick him up, but today was a day of firsts. Before calling Wilson, he called Cameron, and Foreman. Foreman failed to answer his phone and Cameron flat out told him no. Not wanting to call House, or wait for the bus he called Wilson in a final attempt.

He could only imagine what Wilson would say when he picked him up at the hospital with his hair completely shaved off. This was the fourth chemotherapy treatment he had undergone and the effects were finally starting to take drastic tolls. He had a pounding headache and realized with a sickening feeling he couldn't go on living like this. He would tell Cuddy about his cancer, asking her for a leave of absence until he got better or maybe died. Funny, he never thought he would die like this.

It was cold outside with the snow covering the pavement from the ground. Without his hair and considerably less body fat, Chase felt cold. Before each new chemotherapy treatment he weighed himself and found he lost ten pounds over the course of less than a month. Despite what House said about him not being a good liar, he hadn't told anyone about the cancer and kept it to himself.

After the treatment he usually made it out in time to catch the night bus, but someone stopped him and started talking with him so he missed the night bus and would have to wait at least another hour before one came along.

Wilson had practice from picking up House so many times on what to take with him and where to go. Initially when Wilson thought Chase wanted a ride he thought maybe Chase was drunk, but then Chase asked to be picked up at the hospital fifteen minutes away. Maybe he had a conference? But Wilson knew it was too late to give a conference and why wouldn't he bring his own car in that case?

Wilson increased his speed, just barely making the yellow light. He couldn't help it, he cared about people. He'd never admit it, but Chase was his favorite out of House's ducklings. Foreman was too aloof, Cameron too girly, and although Chase had his own flaws, Wilson liked him a bit more. It seemed that Chase always knew when to mind his own business or ask Wilson if he needed anything. Chase wasn't as bright as Foreman was, but a little smarter than Cameron.

He saw a thin man waiting on the steps to the hospital with Chase's familiar sling bag and realized that skinny man was Chase. When Chase walked over to the car, Wilson saw his hair was gone.

"Chase, wha-"

"I have cancer."

Chase cut off Wilson, sliding into the warm car and strapping his seatbelt on. Wilson looked shocked, his eyebrows almost disappearing completely into his hairline and his jaw slightly open. Wilson focused on the road, trying not to look at this new, haggard, and hairless Chase.

"When?"

"They found it a little over a month ago."

Wilson wanted to ask more questions, but Chase yawned loudly, leaning his head against the cool glass of the window.

"What type?"

"Gastric"

Wilson shook his head, how could he not have noticed Chase's slight changes in behaviour?

He remembered at the beginning of the month how Chase had 'forgotten' his lunch. Or how he ran out of the room during a diagnosis to use the restroom. That one morning when House and him had thought Chase went out for all night drinking because he looked like crap in the morning had probably been from chemotherapy treatment. Or when he used the elevator with House, ignoring House's remarks about how he had two good legs to use the stairs.

"I appreciate you picking me up. I usually take the bus but I had something else that kept me."

"Usually? How many times have you had chemo?"

"Four now; it's starting to wear me out. Can you pull over?" Chase asked nervously, closing his eyes and putting a hand to his mouth.

Wilson pulled off the road immediately, and watched as Chase fumbled out of the car and heaved his light lunch out onto the side of the road. The Australian took a moment to compose himself; taking a deep breath of winter air and steadying himself against the side of the car before settling back in.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, sorry-side effects"

"Does House know?"

"Nope."

"Does anyone know?"

Chase stared out the window, praying that Wilson would stop asking questions.

Wilson went silent, Chase was clearly stressed and he didn't want to add any more problems. The oncologist pulled up to Chase's apartment, worried about him having to climb so many stairs to the front door.

"Thanks for the ride."

"Chase, if you ever need anyone, I'm here."

A small gracious smile appeared on Chase's pale face.

"Thanks."


	2. Chapter 2

This is the second chapter in my story. I just wanted to thank the reviewers and publish this before I do some other work. I'll probably update by the end of the week or the weekend. Read and review please

Chase hit his alarm clock with one heavy hand. Resisting the overwhelming urge to fall asleep again, he dragged himself out of the bed. He splashed some water on his face trying to wake himself up, but it was to no avail. Dragging his feet, he got dressed, the room spinning. Figuring it was just part of dehydration, he stumbled into the kitchen. He filled a glass with precious water, taking it with one hand, he pressed it to his cracked lips. The glass slipped through his hand, shattering into eleven jagged little pieces. Chase bent down to pick them up, but the vertigo hadn't gone away yet and he fell. He put his hand down onto the glass pieces to prevent himself from falling on the floor. With a muffled curse, he held his hand up to the light, seeing the devilish shards of glass engorged in his left hand.

He cursed again, that would need stitches. He glanced at the clock and sighed in frustration. He would be late for work. Feeling too tired to drive after last night; he made the bus just in time. He put a hand to the top of his head; he forgot to comb his hair! When his good hand made contact with the knit cap, his shoulders slumped a little; the lines on his face seemed to deepen. For the sake of not freaking out any of the other passengers on the bus, he wrapped his hand in a towel that was slowly turning red.

"You better take care of that son."

The bus driver looked at Chase's wrapped hand with concern, feeling for the young man like a grandson. Chase nodded, his thanks to the driver and got off at Princeton Plainsboro. He entered the OR when he saw Wilson talking to one of his patients. Wilson saw Chase out of his peripheral vision. Bidding a goodbye to his patient, he walked up to Chase.

"How are you?"

It was a normal question, but both men knew it hinted at something a little deeper than normal.

"What happened to your hand?"

"I think I need stitches."

Wilson guided Chase to one of the exam rooms, noticing his new hat. He prepared the thread for the stitches and the local anesthesia. Chase tried not to watch as Wilson pulled the needle through Chase's numbed left hand. Sensing Chase's less than enthusiastic mood, he cut the usual conversation out.

"I'm going to put an extra wrap on this. You'll need to clean it tonight and in the morning. Don't forget to redress it too."

"Thanks again Wilson."

Wilson smiled. He knew Chase wasn't used to the chemo treatment yet. It would take a while for him to adjust.

"I think House is upstairs, for once he's on time."

Chase got up off the table, flexing his left hand tentatively. He stood in the elevator, thankful that he was alone. He leaned heavily against the side of the elevator, closing his heavy lidded eyes. His floor pinged, and he put on his mask once again. He walked into the diagnostician room, slinging his shoulder sack into its normal place.

"Well hello there sleeping beauty. You're a little late!"

Chase gave a small shrug and noticed Cameron sitting across the table reading a book.

"Where's Foreman?"

"They needed his help in neurology. Since we don't have a case yet, I let him off the leash for a little while."

House was being his normal jerky self, as usual. Strangely, Chase found this comforting; at least something was stable in his life. He took out one of his medical articles from his pack, sitting at the table. House's cane, rather painfully, jarred his left hand.

"Oww!"

"So what happened this time? A fuzzy creature nestled in your hair and when you tried to take it out it bit you?"

"I cut it picking up glass fragments."

"And how many times do I have to tell you, no hats in school?"

Chase's right hand grabbed the top of his hat, pulling from the tip up until his baldhead was exposed. Cameron looked up from her book, eyes wide. Even House stared for a second before rubbing his hand over the shaved head.

"What happened to your hair?" Cameron asked, her voice filled with shock.

"I went to get it trimmed at the barber and she cut it too short so I just shaved the whole thing."

House and Cameron exchanged looks, first the hand, then his hair.

"Well if you girls are finished talking about hair, I'm going to hide from Cuddy."

House limped out of the room, making his way to his favourite oncologist's office.

"WILSON!"

"Despite what some people say, I'm not deaf."

Wilson, sleeves rolled up, had a file open in front of him. "Did you know Chase cut his hand?"

"Yeah, I stitched it up for him this morning."

"And he shaved his head."

Wilson rolled his eyes, "Just because you never get a hair cut doesn't mean other people don't."

House sat down on one of Wilson's couches.

"House, I'm busy, a patient's going to be coming in soon."

House continued to sit with a far off look in his eyes. Worried that he might give away Chase's condition, Wilson left to see one of his own patients. House followed him, hiding in one of Wilson's other patient's room.

"Chase, wake up."

Someone was shaking him. Chase momentarily looked up to see Foreman with a curious look on his face.

"You want to have some lunch together. I got a girl in neurology I could use a second opinion on."

The Aussie rubbed his injured hand over his face, forgetting about the wrapping.

"Why not ask House?"

"Because House will be a complete jerk if he knew I wanted confirmation."

Chase reluctantly got up and went into the staff lounge to get his lunch, but his lunch wasn't in the refrigerator. House limped in a minute later.

"Don't bother looking for your lunch, I already ate it."

"House! You can't keep eating my food!"

"I would've taken Wilson's but he was eating at a different time. Sorry. I'll take Cameron's next time."

Chase closed his eyes, his vertigo returning after the little nap. He put a hand out for balance on the counter. House's eyes narrowed, Chase was beginning to sway a little. Putting his shoulder under Chase, House steadied the younger man. Chase's eyes opened, he detached himself from House and sat down on the couch.

"Sorry, I didn't get much sleep last night."

"You can't be operating on anyone with that injured hand and you won't be doing much good over here. Go home and sleep your hangover off."

Chase nodded before getting up again and walking carefully to meet Foreman before going home.


	3. Chapter 3

Since I got a few more reviews and alerts I wanted to update the story as soon as possible (and since I need a procrastination device). This chapter's a little short but I'll get another one up soon. Read and review please

Chase stepped off the bus to his apartment, dreading the thirteen steps and walk to the end of the hall, second to last apartment. Dirt and sludge ran through his veins, making his movements slow and exaggerated. He raised his right foot onto the first step, his left leg followed and balanced on the same step. After six steps, he paused, his breath released in small gasps. His bandaged hand grasped the rusty metal railing, leaning over slightly.

'Half way through, I can do this.'

He thought with a steady stream of persistence, pushing his legs to go farther. He walked to his peeling white painted door, shoving the key through the lock with a twist. Chase collapsed on the sofa, throwing his bag at the foot of the counter. He closed his eyes, forgetting about the world.

House limped into his office, thinking about his young wombat. It should've been easy for House to see what was wrong; he'd diagnosed rarer diseases. Something in his mind refused to believe that his first employee had gotten cancer. But the signs were apparent despite how bad Chase tried to hide it. The diagnostician had noticed the first time Chase's hand froze up when he went to pick up a case they recently solved involving cancer, as if touching him would give him the disease. That was over a month ago though so House decided he would let the Aussie slide. Then the first week of the month Chase nearly puked during a seemingly normal diagnosis, stomach ache his ass. The second week of the month he saw dark circles under Chase's pale blue eyes. His eyes dimmed each day, as if there was some flame inside of Chase slowly burning out.

When Chase came in with a shaved head this morning, House knew. Despite the remarks about being a heartless bastard, as far as his stethoscope told him, he had a heart. That heart at the moment, which endured so much pain from his leg, and Stacey, and Cuddy, finally chipped.

Then, when Chase nearly collapsed in the lounge, House's suspicions were officially and totally confirmed. No matter how his conscience tried to soothe him, the constant nagging won out. Foreman made a remark about a skinny white boy while Cameron asked Chase if she could hear the secret of his diet. Chase laughed, trying to take it in stride. But the fact that he was able to support Chase even with his bad leg showed how much weight Chase lost. A month ago House would've crashed to the floor under the other man's weight, but now, he could support him.

But when was Chase going to tell anyone? With his biological dad and mother both dead House wasn't sure whom Chase would call.

Chase woke up with a throbbing head and a stiff neck from sleeping in the wrong position. He saw the red light on his phone go off, he had a new message. He grabbed the small plastic water bottle off of the wood table next to his phone. The water cascaded down his throat, soothing the burning and easing the pounding ever so slightly. Rubbing his eyes, he groaned as he felt his stomach acting up. Replacing the water bottle, he grabbed the mobile and put it on speakerphone, playing his missed messages. Wilson's voice came on.

"Hey, it's Wilson. Just wondering if you needed anything, not that you would, but just in case because I'm going to the store."

The next message was from his doctor, informing him of an endoscopy appointment for the weekend. Chase picked up his phone, giving his doctor a phone call back and confirming the date and time. Having done many endoscopies himself, he knew he would need someone to drive him home. Glancing at the clock making sure it wasn't too late, he called Wilson.

Wilson and House sat on the couch at House's place watching a pointless movie.

"Can't she hear the monster on the steps?"

"You would have to figure a 200 lb monster would be louder."

Wilson agreed, shoving some popcorn in his mouth. His phone vibrated on the glass table in front of them. House glimpsed at the black flip phone.

"Why is Chase calling you?"

A pained expression crossed Wilson's face. He reached for the phone but House's arm pulled in the opposite direction.

"Hello sweetie. How nice of you to call."

Chase looked at the phone, doubting to believe the person on the other end.

"House?"


	4. Chapter 4

Another chapter done! It took me a while to figure out how to write the scene between Chase and one of his employers. I'll try to get another chapter up tomorrow before the week starts. Read and review (Just a reminder, this is House answering Wilson's phone)

"Who else were you expecting? Shaniqua?"

"Is Wilson there? I need to talk to him."

House put his other hand on Wilson's mouth, suppressing Wilson's exclamations.

"Actually, he just went to the bathroom. Why are you calling my best friend anyways?"

Chase cleared his throat. He wasn't ready; he couldn't say it. The more times he said it, the realer the cancer became.

"It's nothing, just tell him to call me back."

Quickly, Chase hung up.

"Geez Wilson, since when have you and Chase been buddy buddy?"

Wilson grabbed his phone back from House and proceeded to get up off of the couch.

"I just remembered something I need to do. I'll see you tomorrow."

The oncologist said, trying his best to not give away Chase's secret.

Chase woke up with his usual alarm, throwing the heavy blanket off. He felt better this morning, not as sluggish as yesterday. The droplets of rain pounded against his window. He would have to tell House today, and for that matter, Cuddy too. His doctor suggested taking a medical leave over a week ago. Pulling up his jeans, he looked into the mirror hanging on the wall.

The face that greeted him wasn't his. It wasn't the face of a rich boy or that of the fearsome diagnostic department doctor. Premature aging lines covered his face. Crinkles around his eyes and mouth that never used to be there, appeared. The closer he looked the less he liked himself.

He felt torn between anger and sadness. Half of him wanted to just scream at the world. He clenched the soft fabric of his shirt, wringing the cotton between both hands before putting it on. He placed his hat on too, covering the ugliness of his bald scalp. Slamming the dresser drawer, he shoved a book into the bag, zipping it with a single gesture. The rain thrummed against the rooftop, creating a soundtrack to his furious morning. Grabbing a granola bar, he headed out the door to catch the bus.

His hands shook as he stepped on the bus. Everything seemed to shift into perspective. He noticed miniscule things; the lady's expensive leather loafers, the girl applying red lipstick to his left, the bus driver glancing at the picture of his grandchildren in his wallet. He would give anything to be one of them.

House woke up at ten o'clock, deciding he would go into work late today. He limped over to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. He massaged his thigh, rubbing his hands over the damaged muscle in small circles. The rain played against his rooftop. House enjoyed listening to the rain. The wet droplets reminded him of brighter days when he played sports, or was with Stacey. He thought about the soccer games in thunderstorms, and his first kiss in the rain. His thoughts wandered to Cuddy afterward and then the hospital. Chase would probably tell him today; he massaged his thigh harder.

Chase stepped down off of the bus, feeling his granola bar rolling in his stomach. The entrance was less than a mile ahead, no running away now. He stood in the rain, wondering whom to tell first, Cuddy or House? His steps slowed as the automatic doors came into view. Did he have to take a break from work? Surely he could still work sometimes-he leaned over to puke. He needed a medical leave.

Pulling himself together, he heaved his shoulder bag higher and walked into the hospital. Deciding to talk to Cuddy first, he walked over only to find her office empty. He waited by the room until she returned a few minutes later.

", what can I do for you?"

He looked into her grayish green eyes, inhaling her lavender perfume.

"I need to take a medical leave."

Cuddy gave him a questioning stare.

"If this is about your hair-"

"I have cancer"

She stopped walking around her office, carefully examining the young Aussie. Her right hand moved to his right forearm.

"I'm so sorry."

He would remember her touch, smooth as milk and honey, almost like the mom he never had. He didn't say anything else; he couldn't. No one was supposed to know. The doctor had assured him that the cancer should've gone away within the first three chemo sessions, but clearly it hadn't. He opened his mouth but no words came out.

"You can take as much time as you need."

He nodded, still not trusting his voice.

"I'm here for you Chase, all of us are."

She meant it too. Her hospital staff was special, hand picked by Cuddy or one of her colleagues. But Chase had been picked by both herself and House. She took in the sight before her, trying to make an imprint of this Chase right now, before he changed anymore. He held back tears not yet visible. The last thing he wanted was for his boss and the dean of medicine to see him crying. She started jotting down a list of food on a piece of paper next to her computer.

"What are you doing?"

"I read that these foods help decrease your risk for cancer. You should try them."

She said handing Chase the paper.

"I already have cancer though."

She put a hand to her mouth, fighting her own tears.

"Just take this and get better, okay?"

He nodded again, feeling the parchment slide between his fingers and then safely tucked away in his denim pocket. He walked out of her office, wishing that House would be easier to deal with. He could wish right?

Standing in the elevator, he brushed his fingers against the plastic buttons. Ran his hands over the metal railing, wondering if the elevator would still look the same when or if he came back.

His stride quickened to the diagnostic department once the elevator pinged. He just wanted this day to be over with. Cameron and Foreman greeted him the same as everyday. Nothing had changed, why did he have to? He sat down at his normal spot and glided the crossword paperback out of his bag. An hour later House walked in. He tossed two files of the same patient onto the glass counter. When Chase went to grab for one House's cane hit Chase's hand.

"Oww!"

Cameron and Foreman gazed at the two for a second before reading the file. House pointed his cane to his office, following after Chase. Chase swallowed, he had to do this.


	5. Chapter 5

This is a really small chapter and I'm sorry, but it took me a few tries to write this in a way I thought was believable. I don't have that much time with everything else going on, but I'll update again before Friday. Thanks for the comments so far! If there's anything I could improve on please tell me. Read and review

"I have cancer." Chase leaned against the bookshelf, his knuckles white. The best way to tell him would be straightforward.

"Yeah, I heard." House sipped some water out of his mug, placing it down carefully, as if the world would shatter if he applied too much force.

"I'm starting my medical leave after today," The Aussie expected some sort of reaction, but instead House seemed more distant than ever, inspecting a spreadsheet on his desk.

"Don't expect your job in diagnostics to be available when you get back." The rain hammered against the window, a deafening noise interrupting their conversation.

"I might not be coming back." Chase choked out the words. His hands wringing the pen he used for the crossword puzzle.

"Is that it?" He fidgeted, ready to leave.

"What else do you want me to say?" House set down his cane, sitting in his swivel chair and fingering the fuzzy ball next to the desktop.

"I was the first person you hired. We've spent over a year together solving puzzles. The only thing you tell me is I'll be unemployed if I survive the next month?"

An awkward silence hung in the air. House rubbed his hand against the back of his neck, swiveling his chair to look out the window. The rain fell in heavy droplets, the tears running into one another to form one long line. People were passing by on the street below, completely oblivious to the conversation taking place. Everyone looked so small; so many people in the world, Chase and him were only two small dots on the face of the planet.

"I'm not your father, I'm not your friend, I'm your boss. Did you expect me to hug you? Or start crying? People get cancer all the time and sometimes they die."

Chase slid down the bookcase, trying to control his emotions. He ran the tips of his fingers over the plastic id page classifying him as a diagnostician. Realizing House wouldn't say anything else, he stood up and took one final glance around the office, listening to the rain now tapping the glass window.

"Robert," The older man limped over to the sick man, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. When Chase's eyes met House's he saw a raw, different person, unusually unmasked. The House that knew what true pain felt like. The House who had his heart crushed by a woman, the man who hated people but helped them nonetheless, the man who never let his guard down, always ready with a sarcastic remark.

Chase gasped, a sudden pain in his stomach making him pitch forward. The other man caught him and turned the catch into a half hug. House's hand clapped over Chase's back, supporting him again. Chase rested his forehead on his boss' shoulder, turning away from the light. House's other hand went up to his neck, counting his pulse.

With a mammoth effort, Chase pulled away from House, a blush covering his face and looked away. House kept his hand on Chase's carotid artery.

"Rest when you get home, your pulse's slightly elevated."

Chase nodded, picking up his bag with a shaking arm. Extreme emotions running through his veins, he shuffled towards the door.

"You fall on me one more time people will start thinking we're a couple."

A smile appeared on his pale face, happy to be back to the easy bantering.

"Don't kid yourself, I'm way out of your league even without my amazing hair."


	6. Chapter 6

This chapter isn't anything special, just more of Chase being sick and more of Wilson, with a little bit of Chameron too. There'll be another chapter by the end of the week. Thanks for all the comments, and as always, read and review!

Chase lay sideways, waiting for the doctor performing the endoscopy/biopsy to come in. He shivered in the thin hospital gown against the cold seat. Princeton Plainsboro had much nicer seats. Ever since he left two days ago, he missed his colleagues and friends. At least Wilson would be picking him up instead of riding on the bus.

The doctor came in, making small talk. They gave him an aesthetic in his arm and mouth, hooked him up to monitors for his blood pressure and heart rate, the normal procedure. He could hear the constant beeping of the monitors and the slight pinch from where the needle was inserted. He shifted in his seat, unable to get comfortable.

", Could you please lie still?"

Chase nodded, leaning on his arm instead of the chair. The doctor asked him to swallow the endoscope. The cord felt like thick syrup pouring down his throat. He would've gagged if it weren't for the mouth guard. He closed his eyes, unwilling to look at the doctors or the screen.

He thought about Cameron, running his hands through her soft hair, caressing the bone along her jaw line. He imagined living with her and finding her short black skirt on the carpet in their room. He pictured her between the white sheets with her back to him. He would wake up around ten. Cameron would already be up, making breakfast in the kitchen. The smell of apple cinnamon pancakes would waft through the doorframe and Chase would actually have an appetite. He would stride into the room, strength in every step.

The doctors pushed the endoscope down further, shattering his perfect world.

"We're just about done . The nurse will come and escort you to the resting area in a few minutes."

Chase flicked his eyes up in acknowledgement. True to their word, the nurse came in with a wheel chair. He waved his hand away; he could still walk. The nurse followed, the constant rolling of wheels clicking behind him. Half way through the walk his eyes screwed up, his head lolled back slightly. He stopped, holding onto the wall. The old nurse eased him down into the wheelchair, one hand on his back, the other pushing him down. He stared at the nurse, her short silver hair bouncing with the rhythm of her steps.

He continued staring, a lazy smile on his face, half controlled because of the anesthetic. She tapped the handlebars, her hands drumming against the plastic. He couldn't remember the last time someone called him child. It must've been his father just before he took off. He wondered what his father would say if he saw him now. He closed his eyes, and whimpered. Without him realizing, they arrived at the recovery area. She helped him up, pulling his elbow and then grabbing his waist. He let her help, surrendering just for the moment.

He could smell the disinfectant, and the medicated lotion she applied. Someone outside the recovery room was shouting loudly, not screaming though. With a frustrated sigh, the nurse led the man to where Chase lay. His eyes took a second to focus after being shut for so long. He recognized the rolled up shirt cuffs, the loose striped tie, and the way the man pinched the bridged of his nose.

"Wilson?"

His voice came out raspy after having the tube down his throat.

"I'm here."

Chase blinked slowly, the anesthesia was wearing off. A warm hand on his arm, a bright fluorescent light, a cotton shirt, more voices, the nurse's hand, a blanket weighing him down, a rubbing alcohol scent, someone ruffling his hair, the wheels of the wheelchair ticking across the tile floor. His eyelids fluttered back open. Wilson coaxed him onto the wheelchair, wrapping the fleece blanket around his friend tighter.

Chase rolled the wheels through his hands, pushing himself. Wilson stayed behind him, ready to take over when he got tired. He rolled himself all the way to the car, thankful for Wilson's silence. He leaned his forehead against the cool metal of the car, the night breeze blowing against his face. Wilson opened the door, letting Chase situate himself. Wilson climbed in on the other side; first checking to make sure Chase's seatbelt was on before putting his own on.

"How was it?"

Wilson asked quietly, his voice cutting the silence like a scissor. Chase glanced at the older onclologist, wondering what he was thinking. He put a hand to his head, a sudden pounding blossoming behind his temple. A low groan escaped his lips. Wilson pulled over immediately.

"What's wrong?"

Chase shook his head away from Wilson's prying eyes.

"Nothing, just tired."

The oncologist shined his penlight in Chase's eyes. He took his temperature with the back of his hand.

"Maybe we should go back to the hospital. You feel a little warm."

Chase pushed his friend's hand away.

"Wilson, please."

With a sigh, Wilson drove back on the road.

"Okay, but if we get home and your temperature is 99 or higher I'm taking you back."

Chase leaned back into the seat, closing his eyes from the passing lights on the road. When he opened them, he saw a truck rushing toward them about to smash the car in, Wilson's eyes wide.

"Watch out!"


	7. Chapter 7

I know it's been a while since I've updated and I'm really super sorry but there were some things that got in the way. I think there'll be only one or two more chapters in this story. I'll try to update again before Monday. Thanks for the reviews and alerts, as always keep reading!

Wilson pulled the wheel sharply to the right, missing the oncoming truck by mere centimeters. He drove into an empty parking lot, taking a minute to compose himself.

Sucking a deep breath, they stared at each other.

"Geez Wilson, I know I'm dying faster than normal but try not to speed up the process."

The oncologist burst out into laughter. All the pressures of the day, built up behind his calm façade poured out at Chase's small joke. Chase laughed too, unlike the other drugged chuckles from his medication. The laugh bubbled from his stomach, passing through the cancer and up on the roof of his mouth. Chase continued laughing, never wanting it to stop.

Wilson's hands slid the keys back into ignition and turned them slowly, reluctant to end the moment. He drove past their normal exit from the highway, pressing the pedal faster and faster.

Chase didn't ask any questions, he snuggled closer into the leather seat with the blanket around him. His eyes slid close, his head leaning against the seat belt strap.

A hand nudged him awake. He blinked to see the fuzzy outline of Wilson against the night stars.

"Wilsssaa?" He slurred as the oncologist slung one arm over his shoulder and grabbed him by the waist.

His eyes dilated and then focused on the crashing waves on a beach. He could almost taste the saltiness on his tongue. He heard the water rubbing against and colliding into each other. He untangled himself from Wilson and stumbled forward onto the sand, lying face down as the tiny rocks dug under his fingernails. The sand washed into his mouth, and as disgusting as it was, Chase let it. He didn't deny as his tongue felt the saltiness and tiny grains evading his mouth. He clutched the sand between his fists. The particles, abrasive and elusive, ticked out of his hands, like seconds on a clock.

"Why'd you bring me here?"

Wilson heaved a sigh and sat next to Chase.

"I come here when I need to sort out my thoughts. It's a little covert place I discovered after my first divorce."

He plucked a pure white seashell, running his palm over the grooves.

Chase turned onto his back, gazing at the salty stars.

"When I'm gone, the world will keep turning won't it? What do you think death is like?"

Wilson tilted his head back placing the seashell down.

"You'd know better then I would."

"But what if none of it matters? What if this is all we have? I've never been skydiving; I've never gone cliff diving. I've never painted on a canvas. I haven't attended that yoga class I signed up for last year. Christ Wilson, there's so much, so much that I haven't done!" He screamed the last bit out, tears biting at the corner of his eyes.

Chase got to his knees. He tore off his shirt and then went for his trousers, his fingers stuck on the button.

Wilson knelt closer, his adroit fingers easily slipping the button through the hole.

Chase steadied himself on Wilson's shoulders. He stood up, shedding his sweat pants. His toes curled around the sand, unused to the roughness. He pushed his sluggish limbs to run into the water. For a moment he was Doctor Robert Chase, confident, free, and a little cheeky. The whole world turned exclusively for him. The water collapsing and surging in a constant struggle for redemption, just for him.

He dove in head first, sucking in the salty water. He didn't want to come up, but his lungs burned without oxygen.

Strong arms grasped him and pulled him forcibly up to the surface.

"For someone who wants to live you seem awfully suicidal to me."

Chase spit out the seawater, letting Wilson carry him like a dead weight in the water.

"Why do you do this?" His voice felt raw after the sand and water.

"I take care of my friends."

"But we weren't even good friends-barely more than acquaintances."

He could feel Wilson's bare skin against his own, and somehow that relieved him.

"Everyone needs someone to take care of them."

Wilson started swimming back to shore on his back, dragging Chase with him.

"This could be the last time I ever go swimming."

His voice waivered. He closed his eyes, feeling the coldness and the gentle water lap over his motionless body like a baptism.

"Then I hope it was a good one."


End file.
